


Bryde Formen

by QueenEevee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Street Musican!Yamaguchi, The Kagehina is background I'm sorry, also Yachi writes poetry, it's not a tsukkiyama fic until we use the "your freckles are like stars" trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6309082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenEevee/pseuds/QueenEevee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bryde Formen: (Danish) Translates to "breaking the mold"</p>
<p>Kei loves routine.<br/>But more than order, Kei likes sweets.<br/>Well, perhaps not more, but enough to make him change his daily routine. Which is probably how he ended up across the way from the new sweet shop in town, watching probably the most intriguing person he's seen play guitar and sing their heart out.<br/>And it was all Hinata's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bryde Formen

**Author's Note:**

> ((EDIT: 100+ KUDOS //screams  
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! The amount of love I've been getting for this is insane, I totally didn't expect it. I love you all ^-^))
> 
> Aka the fic in which Kei does a lot of wondering and routine starts to look like a fake word.
> 
> This is the longest story I have ever written and I'm not sorry.  
> This entire story is inspired by my friend J's (freakofnature) AU idea that she wrote out oh so kindly over Skype one day and I fell in love with. I hope I did her beautiful idea and my favorite characters justice.
> 
> Idea inspired by this fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3480122

**_“This life had always been my routine, but now it felt like a cage.” ~Katie Kacvinsky_ **

 

  
  
Kei loves routine.

  
He works at his awful, dead end job every weekday, goes to the same café for his lunch break, talks to the same coworkers, and returns to an empty apartment every evening, falling asleep only when his eyes hurt too much to continue reading. It’s boring, but it’s constant, and Kei likes order.

  
But more than order, Kei likes sweets.

  
Well, perhaps not more, but enough to make him change his daily routine. Which is probably how he ended up across the way from the new sweet shop in town, watching probably the most intriguing person he’s ever seen play guitar and sing their heart out.

  
And it was all Hinata’s fault.

  
Hinata Shouyou was one of his more annoyingly energetic coworkers. The twenty year-old child had burst into the building early this morning, excitedly talking to a frazzled blonde who works there as well, Yachi Hitoka, about how a new sweet shop had opened up downtown. Kei couldn’t help but hear, since Hinata’s voice did have a tendency to carry, and he had been slightly curious. He looked it up as soon as he had the time.

  
_Bryde Formen_ was the name that popped up on his screen in all pastel colors. A weird name for a sweet shop in Kei’s opinion, but it was clearly in a different language, so he assumed it meant _something_. It wasn’t too far away from his work. In fact, it was closer than the normal café he went to. It also happened to be across the way from a park, meaning Kei could people-watch while he ate, something he did more than he’d like to admit. But was it worth it to change his entire routine around just to possibly get to eat some shortcake?

  
With a sigh, he relented. Pastels colors never hurt anybody, though he’s sure the world wouldn’t mind trying that theory out on him. His own office had a very dull, grey color scheme and it never changed. Day after day, the same fuzzy walls surrounded him and his coworkers’ cubicles, the same drab posters that were supposed to bring cheer into the room slowly peeled off the wall, and the same green plant sat alone in the corner of the room. It was the only plant in the entire office, and it was very clearly fake. Granted, it had to be, after everyone realized through several experiments that they were awful at taking care of real plants and they didn’t want to put poor Yachi through any more distress.

  
(Though it may be fake, Kei swears it’s wilting, just like every other living thing in this room.)

  
He had left his cubicle quickly, only stopping as usual to shoot a half-teasing glare at the person working next to him, Kageyama Tobio, out of habit. Kei was forced to work with on a project once.

  
Never again.

  
The glass doors to the giant building shut tightly behind him and as the city buzzed with excitement, Kei looked at his phone to check the directions, wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

  
~o~

  
Stepping out of the working epicenter of the city and into the plaza of restaurants is like a shift in culture. The divide between the steel, robot-like, buildings and the soft, neutral colors of the tiny food shops is practically visible, as though a line could be drawn between the two. Trees line every sidewalk and the scent of perfume from the flowers constantly hangs in the air. The most notable feature though, is the park. It’s enormous, and always bustling with activity. Even in the winter, there’s kids making snow angels and snowmen and anything else they can think of. When it’s warmer outside, picnic blankets cover the lawn like splashes of color, and kites aren’t and uncommon sight either. Kei took a shortcut through the park in order to avoid the crazy street crowd of other hungry city workers and is greeted by a mixture of sounds.

  
That’s when he first sees the boy.

  
The word “boy” might be a bit of a stretch; he’s twenty at least. A simple, brown leather jacket is tied around his waist, and a t-shirt and a pair of ripped blue jeans hug his lithe frame. The clothes are dirty and a little ratty, but clearly well-loved. His hair is pulled into a small, messy ponytail, and strands that didn’t make it into the band hang gently around his face. Kei can’t see what his face looks like from how far away he is, but even from where he stands, he can see how adoringly the boy is looking at his guitar as he sings, tilting his head up and smiling through the words of a song Kei has never heard before. Little children dance to the music as parents look on fondly, some dropping money into a suitcase that’s faded and littered with stickers.

  
Kei is, to say the least, intrigued.

  
And this was not part of the plan.

  
He hurries into the shop, ordering something quickly, and returns to his office much quicker than he expected. The boy had stirred something inside of him and he hates it. It’s a form of curiosity, but yet it was unfamiliar. He wants to know the boy and doesn’t know why. He eats his shortcake at his desk in pensive bites, thinking and brewing.

  
He probably wouldn’t go back.

  
Except he does.

  
Multiple times.

  
Every time, he orders a sandwich or soup with a side of shortcake, and every time he sits in the shade, at a table he’s claimed for himself on the shop’s patio, watching the boy.

  
There’s something electric about him, Kei deducts one day as he picks at the strawberry on top of his cake. Something that draws you in, as if he knew all about the world, more than Kei would ever know from staying in the same city his whole life, and you want to find out what knowledge he holds.

  
Or maybe, Kei thinks while stabbing his fork through the berry, he’s been reading too much of Yachi’s poetry lately and he really needs to learn to say no to proofreading.

  
But, no matter how much he hates to admit it, what he was doing had become his new routine while he hadn’t been paying attention. He’s no longer rushing to work after arriving. He now takes his time, ordering his usual (the fact that he _has_ a usual should have clued him in), and enjoying the fresh air and music at _his_ table spot.

  
He hates it, and he’s determined to change it.

  
But instead of getting up and leaving, ready to never come back, his body moves on its own accord and walks closer to the boy. The voice is much stronger the closer he moves, and even Kei can admit that it is beautiful. He sticks his hands in his pockets, trying to act like he actually knows what he’s doing, when his hands touch a crumpled bill. He pulls it out and Alexander Hamilton’s face stares back at him.

  
Smugly, he notes.

  
Kei sighs, knowing exactly what he’s going to do with it. It is only fair, he reasons. The boy has been his entertainment for a couple weeks now. It’s the least he can do.

  
Especially since he’s not coming back tomorrow.

  
He ambles over hesitantly, hoping his cold demeanor is noticeable, and stands awkwardly in front of the man, trying to look like he would rather be anywhere else. Now that he’s closer, Kei can finally see the boy’s face. Freckles are the first things he notices. They’re _everywhere_ , without exaggeration. They cover his face, his hands, his arms, and anywhere else that shows skin. Warm, brown eyes shine as he sings, clearly enjoying what he’s doing, and a giant smile is spread across his face. The fact that he’s attractive only adds to Kei’s frustration and he stands awkwardly to the side for a good amount of time, before dropping the money in, mumbling a “sorry”, and trying his best to coolly hurry back to work.

  
This is why he didn’t break his routine.

  
Though, as he walks a familiar path to the same sweetshop the next day, unable to have enough self-control to direct himself in the opposite way for even a second, he figures _this_ was more accurately why he didn’t break routine.

  
But as he arrives at the familiar park, he realizes something else has now broken his new routine.

  
The boy isn’t there.

  
And he isn’t there the next day, or a week later.

  
He probably moved areas, Kei guesses one day, while eating his lunch in silence. Maybe there were better tips somewhere else. He understands the man’s motives, but he doesn’t understand the pang of disappointment he feels when he comes to this conclusion.

  
It’s a month before Kei sees him again.

  
The wishy-washy weather of March finally gives way to the constant spring air of April. It’s warm every day, to the point where Kei almost considers changing into shorts and a t-shirt just to go to the café because being in formal office wear outside is _very hot_. The buds on the trees open to release cherry blossoms that coat the ground, the grass, and the hair of passing people. Kei has brushed off more petals than people in the last week and he thinks he’s losing his touch.

  
He blames it on the boy.

  
On April 3rd, unfamiliar music floods Kei’s ears for the first time in a month as he walks closer to the shop. He’s almost annoyed, thinking that a new singer took the other boy’s place and he feels strangely territorial.

  
But to his surprise and amazement, it’s the same boy.

  
He’s much tanner now and his hair is a lot longer, long enough to put in a low bun that rests comfortably at the base of his neck. But the electricity he has is the same as he plays a new song he must have recently learned wherever he went.

  
And, as Kei notices when he—less awkwardly this time—drops another ten into the man’s suitcase, his smile is the same too. It’s just as blinding as Kei remembers, and he can’t stop thinking about it all day.

  
Kei’s routine shifts again, much to his distaste, to dropping off a tip of some amount in the faded suitcase after he’s finished eating. Then he can finally make his way back to the dismal, grey office he works in, whose consistent nature is starting to really piss Kei off. He’s not sure why though.

  
However, just when Kei was finally getting used to this routine, the boy, once again, throws him off.

  
(It doesn’t bother Kei as much this time though and he’s annoyed.)

  
When Kei drops off a twenty in the suitcase, finally getting tired of Hamilton’s smug face, the song finishes and the final chords are strummed. Kei lifts his head up to meet a gentle smile and warm eyes that make eye contact with his.

  
“Thank you,” The boy says and Kei’s stomach flips. From this close, Kei can see more freckles than the ones visible from a distance. They remind him of the constellations he hasn’t seen or even thought of in years. But tracing invisible lines, like connect-the-dots, on the boy’s face, Kei remembers them all, unaware that he hadn’t forgotten.

  
“It’s the least I can do,” Kei says, not quite sure _what_ exactly he’s thanking the boy for. The boy absentmindedly strums chords for an audience that’s not really paying attention. And what a weird sight they must have been if they had been looking. A cold, but well-dressed man talking to a run-down, but bright boy. Opposites if they ever did exist.

  
“Well it means a lot,” The boy grins, speaking smoothly. He looks back down at his guitar and Kei shifts, unsure if that was his cue to leave. But before he can walk away, the boy speaks again.

  
“My name’s Yamaguchi,”

  
“Tsukishima,” Kei replies quickly, quicker than he normally would.

  
“Tsukki it is then,” Yamaguchi decides, and then laughs at his own joke. It’s a quiet laugh, Kei almost misses it. But it’s light and airy and Kei doesn’t mind the nickname if it makes Yamaguchi laugh like that every time.

  
Kei’s about to say something else when a timer on his phone goes off and he curses quietly. Yamaguchi laughs again, a little louder this time.

  
“That’s the end of my lunch break,” Kei explains, hoping his disappointment isn’t noticeable in his voice.

  
“It was nice meeting you, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, beaming, and Kei thinks he may have returned it with a small smile of his own. That is definitely not routine. But Kei can’t find it in himself to care. He wants to see Yamaguchi smile more.

  
The thought is so sudden that he immediately ignores it, locking it away. Maybe it was then that he realized he was in too deep.

  
It’s too late now, especially when talking to Yamaguchi until his lunch break ended becomes a daily thing, whether it’s for five minutes or fifteen.

But Yamaguchi has an uncanny ability for ruining any consistency Kei tries to establish, and Kei almost isn’t surprised when one day he finds Yamaguchi at his table on the patio, reading what looks like a notebook and eating a tiny sandwich. As Kei gets closer, Yamaguchi notices his arrival and peers up from his book, smiling. Kei opens his mouth to question him, but shuts it quickly as Yamaguchi looks back down. He can’t find it in himself to mind the company. Kei places his order for his usual and eats it in silence, occasionally looking up to see how Yamaguchi is doing. He’s wearing his hair down and it lays on his shoulders in light waves that shake whenever he laughs at something in his book. His leather jacket is laid over the back of his chair and his guitar is propped up against the railing of his seat. Kei misses the soft sounds of the guitar chords while he eats, but the silence that hangs over them is comforting all the same, as if they had done this for years instead of just one day. Kei is almost done with his meal when Yamaguchi shuts his book. With a gentle sigh, Yamaguchi looks up at him for the first time since he arrived.

  
“I’m sorry for intruding,”

  
“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Are the first words out of Kei’s mouth and he’s never regretted something so fast. But Yamaguchi just laughs, his smile even wider.

  
“Sorry, Tsukki. You always ate alone, so I figured I would join you,”

  
“Well that’s because the rest of my coworkers are insufferable,” Kei shoots back. Yamaguchi snorts.

  
“I’m sure you don’t mean that,”

  
“Well, maybe not for all of them. But one of them is a constant ball of energy and the definition of hot-blooded. Another makes me read poetry. _Poetry_. But she writes it and it’s so hard to say no when she pouts. And there’s another who gets on my _nerves_ -“

  
As Kei rants about his co workers and drab lifestyle, Yamaguchi just listens intently. Every insult is accompanied by a snicker or two and every complaint elicits a hum of sympathy from him. Kei hasn’t talked to someone like this in forever and it’s amazingly refreshing. Everything that had been stressing him out that week is pacified by Yamaguchi’s soft words or advice.

 

~o~

  
When he returns to the office that day, Hinata stops him in the hallway with a confused face.

  
“What,” Kei snaps, impatient.

  
“You look…weird,” Hinata says slowly, as if still trying to figure it out.

  
“You don’t look so normal yourself. Can I get to my office?” Kei said, exasperated. He doesn’t even get to take a step before Hinata snaps his fingers with an epiphany.

  
“You look happy!” Hinata shouts suddenly, a smile on his face.

  
“Amazing. Take a good look because I can feel it fading,” Kei sighs.

  
“Who was it? Oh! Did you meet someone at lunch?” Hinata is suddenly smiling coyly, as though he knew something. Kei doesn’t answer.

  
“You did! You totally did! Ah, Kei is finally melting his cold heart and letting someone in!” Hinata pretends to wipe away a tear and Kei feels like baring his teeth.

  
“Don’t you have someone to fawn over? I think he’s in right now, remember? In the office next to mine-“

  
“Shut up!” Hinata is sputtering now and Kei smirks.

  
“Don’t get involved in my life and I won’t get involved in yours,” Kei walks past Hinata brusquely as Hinata frantically tries to recover. Kei steps into his office and sits down at his chair with a huff, spinning in it absentmindedly.

  
_Yeah, I did meet someone Hinata. He’s incredible, but I couldn’t describe him if I tried._

 

~o~

  
  
And so it continues for weeks, though Hinata finally learned not to pester him about it (but he clearly told Yachi because her poems were slowly becoming more and more about confessing attraction). Since Kei now has an entire lunch break to talk with Yamaguchi, he normally ends up talking for an hour or more every day. Sometimes about his life, sometimes about Yamaguchi’s. Kei feels something akin to happiness begin to make a reappearance, as well as something unfamiliar.

  
Nonetheless, Kei feels at ease talking to Yamaguchi. But, as Kei has learned many times over again, routines were made to be broken.

  
He hates making routines.

 

~o~

  
  
“I’m leaving again,” Yamaguchi greets him with one day, an indifferent expression on his face. It’s strange compared to his usual blinding smile and Kei’s not sure how to react. The warm wind blows through their hair as Yamaguchi waits for a reply. Kei would laugh at nature’s comedic timing if it wasn’t his situation.

  
“For how long?” Is the question that comes out of his mouth.

  
_Will you come back?_

  
“A couple months probably,” Yamaguchi answers calmly. Kei sits down finally and plays with his fingers. It’s quiet for a moment as Kei looks around the park. The cherry blossoms have disappeared from the trees and only a few stubborn petals tint the ground with pink. It amazes Kei to think how much time has passed, when it’s felt like such a short time.

  
“Where are you going?” He replies, finally looking back at Yamaguchi. Freckles crinkle as Yamaguchi smiles.

  
“South America,” His voice is full of awe, as if he can’t believe it himself. Kei waits for more details, but Yamaguchi supplies none, simply finishing the last bite of his meal. Kei realizes he must have gotten here early, preparing for this.

  
He turns away to look at the emptying park again, but a rustle of cloth brings his attention back.

  
A notebook.

  
It’s the same notebook that Yamaguchi was reading the first day he joined Kei at his table. Yamaguchi looks shy all of a sudden and he nervously presses the notebook into Kei’s hands. Kei is about to ask him if he’s sure, but nothing short of determination flashes in his piercing eyes and Kei swallows, waiting.

  
“Please take care of it for me,” Yamaguchi says, practically whispering it, as though it’s a secret. He gets up from his seat, and, with one last bright smile, swings his guitar over his shoulder and walks away. His bun bounces in time with his steps and a small tune plays from the guitar.

  
Kei looks down at the bulging notebook in his hands, bound with leather and filled with what he thinks is sand, and he wonders what the real definition of routine is.

 

~o~

  
  
Kei doesn’t read the notebook for two months.

  
He’s unsure to touch it. He has a feeling that if he opens it, he may as well say goodbye to his normal life. Because, well, that’s what happened with everything else he encountered that had to do with the boy.

  
Hinata questions him every day about what the book on his desk is. Kageyama tells him to stop tracking sand all over the floor. Yachi is antsy, wanting to know what’s in the notebook more than Kei, which he didn’t even know is possible.

  
Finally, after returning to his apartment on a particular awful day of work, he opens the notebook. Sand spills everywhere and he supposes, in hindsight, he should have seen this coming. But he just huffs with amusement and bends down. Letting the sand run through his fingers is strangely therapeutic and he just sits there, playing with this sand that Yamaguchi collected for this notebook.

  
The notebook, turns out to be a diary of some kind. A travel log, his brain supplies, and he looks closer. _Africa_ is the only word on the first page, bolded and scribbled over many times, with a ridiculous amount of underlines underneath. Tsukki shakes his head with fondness because it’s just so _Yamaguchi_ that it makes him smile. He flips to the next page.

  
There are pages upon pages of everything Yamaguchi encountered or decided to try in Africa. Drawings of animals litter the margins and a variety of plants and grasses are stuck in between the pages, pressed flat. Yamaguchi talks about the people he meets, the trouble he gets into, and how he actually got to Africa in the first place.

  
(Apparently he did it with only the tips from playing guitar and his “charming smile”.)

  
He describes sunrises and sunsets over the savannah, running with a wild group of zebra, and even getting to watch a lion cub from a distance.

  
Kei drinks it in like it’s water.

  
And he realizes this is what he wants. This is why he had no self-control over changing his lunch, over getting out of his office as quickly as he could, over changing his daily life.  
Over meeting Yamaguchi.

  
Change. Adventure. Every day in Yamaguchi’s life is a new journey and he never knows what’s going to happen. Kei knew exactly what was going to happen. Hell, one day he predicted exactly what Kageyama was going to say to him for the entire day and Yamaguchi didn’t even know where he’d sleep each night.

  
Kei’s never left his city, let alone his country. He’s had no need to. Everyone he knew was here and everything he needed was here.

  
But he never realized how false that was.

  
Kei decides he really hates routine.

 

~o~

  
  
Yamaguchi returns just as the weather shifts from summer to fall. His hair is shorter now, too short to fit into a bun, but it rests nicely against the nape of his neck. Sunburn kisses his still very tan skin, but if it hurts, he shows no indication of it. He’s grinning wildly from his spot in the park, looking about as happy to be alive as a child. He’s happier than Kei’s ever seen himself look in years—since the death of his brother, since he moved out, since...since a lot of things—and he feels slightly envious. But something else mixes with the envy and it makes him look at Yamaguchi with a fond quirk of the lips.

  
Since Yamaguchi isn’t at his table, Kei drops a $20 bill in the suitcase, mentioning quietly that he'll bring the notebook tomorrow. Yamaguchi flashes him a smile to indicate he heard and Kei feels warmth on his cheeks, even though it’s much colder outside now.

  
The next day, Yamaguchi is waiting for him at his table once more. The first thing Kei does is place the notebook in front of Yamaguchi, before he takes his seat across from him. A Ziploc bag peeks out between the smudged pages: the aftermath of Kei getting tired of picking up sand fragments from his floor. Yamaguchi regards it with amusement and watches Kei carefully, expecting him to say something.

  
“I read it,” Kei confesses. Yamaguchi laughs at him.

  
“I hoped you would. What do you think?”

  
How does Kei describe what the books did to him? How does he explain the itch to leave, to live recklessly, no, with reckless abandon? To join Yamaguchi on his adventure to wherever he wants to go?

  
“It was…eye-opening,” Kei says, testing the words. That’s as good as it would get. Yamaguchi seems more than satisfied with this and holds out a new notebook for him.

  
_East Europe_ is scrawled on the first page and Kei feels excitement.

  
Each notebook he reads is swapped for a new one, typically one a week, or one a day depending on how slow work is and how long his coworkers will leave him alone. He reads about East Europe, West Europe, Northern Europe, Russia, and Asia. There’s a whole notebook dedicated to India alone, spices packed between the pages. Some which Kei sneaks into his meal, though he denies it when Yamaguchi asks.

  
Kei lives vicariously through Yamaguchi’s notebooks and he’s never felt more alive. But the itch to leave is more prominent than ever. He notices himself doing tiny things to bring excitement to his life, like ordering a different lunch, or initiating small talk with a worker he’s never made eye contact with before. He’ll actually talk to Yachi about how she can improve her poems instead of just brushing it off with a single critic. Kageyama’s confused look of disbelief makes Kei’s one and only compliment to him worth it. Hinata is even stunned into speechlessness when Kei holds a civil conversation with him, giving him actual advice on how to win Kageyama over. Kei would never admit he got the idea from something in Yamaguchi’s notebooks, but the sentiment stands.

 

~o~

  
  
Kei and Yamaguchi’s “lunch dates”, as Yamaguchi referred to them affectionately one day, slowly turn into invitations to come for dinner at Kei’s apartment. Their conversations last for hours upon hours, sometimes lasting late into the night, long after the moon rises over the horizon. Kei asks him for more in-depth stories about his writing and Yamaguchi replies with vigor, moving his whole body as he retells the story.

  
_“Did you really get shot?”_

_  
“Yes! Wanna see the scar?”_

  
Their late night conversations are filled with more imagery than Kei could have ever imagined by himself. The real world isn’t as dull as his world is, and just from Yamaguchi’s descriptions, it’s beautiful. In fact, just looking at how Yamaguchi acts and looks and how he’s changed from his experiences shows Kei how beautiful the world it.

  
_And he wants to see it so badly._

  
“Some of my favorite places are ones where it’s so dark, so remote, that you can perfectly see the Milky Way,” Yamaguchi whispers one night, both of them lying on opposite couches in the living room. Kei sits up faster than he thought was possible for someone as tired as he is. Yamaguchi smirks at him, as if anticipating this reaction. Kei forgot how he admitted to his fascination with constellations over lunch one day.

  
“I need to go there,” The amount of seriousness in Kei’s sleepy voice makes Yamaguchi laugh, but Kei’s never been more certain about something.

  
Eventually, their conversations run on so late that Kei invites Yamaguchi to stay the night. And when Yamaguchi confesses, late into the night, that he doesn’t really have a place to stay and more or less hops between friends, Kei’s apartment, which he’s always hated for being so big when he was alone, has never been more perfect.

  
With Yamaguchi now practically living with him, the late conversations turn into weekend conversations over a drink or two. Wine and beer makes Yamaguchi’s stories louder and Kei’s filter for excitement irrelevant. The stories are so rich in knowledge and detail that if Yamaguchi didn’t live with him, Kei wouldn’t stay in his apartment another minute. He finally understands why Yamaguchi wanders and travels, never settling down. The world is vast, and who wants to be tied down when you could see that for yourself instead?

  
Kei wants to see it for himself.

  
One night, when they had gotten particularly tipsy (at least Kei was only tipsy, Yamaguchi didn’t have work the next day), Kei was almost asleep when he felt something warm and soft on his cheek.

  
His sleep-drunk mind told him it was Yamaguchi. He’s too drunk to really comprehend what happened though.

  
“Thank you. I had fun,” Yamaguchi’s soft voice whispers, confirming his assumption. Kei falls asleep before he figures out what Yamaguchi was doing.

  
When he wakes up, Yamaguchi is gone. The only thing remaining is a note, in a handwriting Kei had learned to memorize, saying he’ll be back by spring.

  
Kei touches the spot Yamaguchi kissed last night and wonders if he can wait that long.

 

~o~

  
  
It’s just before Christmas when Kei finds Yamaguchi’s notebooks. He had just gotten out of work, carrying a myriad of different gifts, to his surprise. It was mainly food, but seeing Kageyama stutter over giving him something he had baked himself really made Kei’s day. Although, he wonders if Kageyama witnessing the break in Kei’s pride as he handed Kageyama a present of his own evened it out.

  
When he arrived at home, he tried to find a place to put a dinosaur figurine Yachi had made for him, when he noticed his old dusty bookshelf looked a little different. In between books Kei hadn’t read in years were all of Yamaguchi’s notebooks.

  
He ends up rereading them for the hundredth time into the night, pretending it’s Yamaguchi who’s telling him these stories, and if he tries hard even, he can hear Yamaguchi’s laughter when Kei gets to a particularly weird part in one of the books.

  
He starts finding things Yamaguchi left behind, like a necklace from Asia in his bedside table or that damned Ziploc of sand on one of his kitchen counters.

  
They’re for him, he realizes.

 

~o~

  
  
It’s March and the cherry blossoms are starting to bud when he decides he’s going to do something about this itch he can’t scratch.

  
He’s going to travel. How he’s going to do it, he has no idea. He especially doesn’t know how he’s going to convince his boss to give him time off, paid or not.

  
Turns out, Kageyama has more expertise in that field than Kei, and he clearly feels indebted to Kei after he helped to  _finally_ get Kageyama and Hinata together. He was reluctant to help the entire time, but with some help from Yachi and Hinata, Kei plans a week-long vacation to Italy.  
It almost seems unreal, but if it is a dream, Kei would be fine with never waking up.  
His trip is far more legal than anything Yamaguchi’s ever done, he pays for airplane tickets and everything, but he does carry around a leather-bound notebook to document his travels.

  
He lands in Europe and it’s immediately different.

  
The food, the language, the smells. People yell in the streets and there’s no barrier between the working and the playing.

  
The entire atmosphere is different.

  
Every day he has a different meal. Every day he goes somewhere else. What’s routine? It doesn’t exist here and he’s never felt freer. He feels like crying and laughing at the same time. He settles for a smile that he hopes rivals Yamaguchi’s for brightness.

  
He’s a different person here. He’s not himself, or at least, he’s not the person he is when he has his work image to live up to. He doesn’t recognize anyone or anything and that’s okay. He laughs and he talks and he makes friendly conversation with complete strangers because what’s the point of being rude if you’re only going to see these people once? He doesn’t have any idea who he’s going to influence and he’s _perfectly okay with that._

  
He was just Tsukishima Kei.

  
And that's a little freeing too.

 

~o~

  
  
He returns days before Yamaguchi does. In the meantime, he talks to the bakers in the sweetshop, finally getting around to thanking them for making such a delicious strawberry shortcake. He hums along to the tune of some song in his head he’s heard Yamaguchi play before, and when a little kid accidentally hits his umbrella with a Frisbee and is full of apologies, Kei just laughs and throws it back.

  
Then, one day, he sees Yamaguchi. The cherry blossoms have only just begun to fall, but they already cover Yamaguchi’s hair and the grass around his feet.

  
Instead of a tip, Kei drops his notebook of Italy into the suitcase. Yamaguchi’s surprised face makes him smile and he tells him that he’ll bring him home after his work.

  
If Yamaguchi notices the connotation of Kei’s choice words, he doesn’t let on, just nods in understanding and smiles, before continuing on with his song.

  
True to his words, Kei meets Yamaguchi at the park just as the sun’s beginning to set. Yamaguchi gives him the most genuine smile Kei’s seen in months and Kei hopes his returning one is just as soft. They make it to the apartment in silence, but as soon as Kei closes the door behind him, Yamaguchi is in front of him, expectant.

  
Kei kisses him, feeling Yamaguchi immediately reciprocate, as if he had been expecting this. Laughter spills from Yamaguchi's lips as his pale arms—paler than they were before—wrap around Kei's neck. When they part, Yamaguchi beams, and Kei notices tiny, faint freckles underneath the more prominent ones on his cheeks. He wonders if there are any more constellations.

  
Their first night together since both of their returns is spent in silence, reading each other’s notebooks. Yamaguchi will snicker occasionally at Kei’s analytical sarcasm, making fun of the Leaning Tower of Pisa and how there’s “no way in hell this thing should be even standing”. Kei just reads Yamaguchi’s journey with extreme interest, closing his eyes occasionally to imagine exactly what places looked like.

  
As the days pass, they fall into their old habits comfortably, recounting various adventures, Kei finally being able to contribute. Their conversations will occasionally lead to gentle and lazy kisses, sometimes becoming heated, with pauses to explain various scars and marks that cover Yamaguchi’s skin. The stories are more interesting than Kei’s entire life before he met Yamaguchi and he tells him so, which always causes blush to spread over Yamaguchi’s cheeks.

  
(Kei thinks Yamaguchi’s scars are just as beautiful as the freckles that dot his skin and the stories of the places he got them from)

  
Other times they’ll just fall asleep on the couch, entangled in each other. They’ll wake up with cricks in necks and sore muscles, but it's been worth it every time.

  
Yamaguchi likes to pokes fun at Kei’s very legal adventure, but Kei usually just shrugs it off. Yamaguchi still never quite lets Kei live it down and Yamaguchi often uses it as material to tease him. Yamaguchi’s teasing is nothing like Kageyama’s or Hinata’s. It’s always gentle and said with a smile, followed by cackling laughter when Kei stammers over a comeback. But they’re both grinning.

  
And Kei’s finally happy.  
Though he still has to go to work and the itch never truly goes away, he’s able to push it down, finally proud of his life.

  
His now routine-less adventure of a life.

  
~o~

  
Yamaguchi resides in Kei’s house for two more months after his return. Though this doesn’t come as a surprise—he basically lives there anyways—coming home to the freckled boy cleaning around the house or making coffee like he’s done it his whole life is still a nice sight for Kei.

One day, Kei comes home from a particularly tiring day to find the house quiet and Yamaguchi nowhere to be seen. Kei finds Yamaguchi in the bedroom, a giant map spread out on their shared bed and a pensive look on his face. A marker cap rests in between his teeth as he scribbles little notes in Sharpie on the map. Now that Kei looks closer, the entire map was covered in messy, but familiar, cursive scrawls; they’re no doubt notes that Yamaguchi wrote to himself as he traveled.

Yamaguchi looks up at the sound of footsteps and gives Kei a gentle smile, returning his attention to the map to write one more thing down. Kei carefully climbs on the bed next to him, trying not to shift the map too much. He looks down at the world, surveying the writing.

  
“Where are you going?” He asks in a quiet voice. Yamaguchi just points to a place at the bottom of the map that’s wildly circled in black multiple times.

  
_New Zealand_ the labeling reads.

  
“There’s supposed to be a meteor shower just before the end of summer there,” Yamaguchi explains around the Sharpie cap, twirling the pen in his fingers. Kei nods, his interest peaked. The itch to leave is back again, stronger than when he first came back, seemingly not satisfied. But before Kei can speak again, Yamaguchi turns to face him.

  
“Come with me,” Yamaguchi breaths, excitement in his eyes. Kei isn’t sure if he heard him correctly until soft hands he’s held countless times seek out his own, grabbing them tightly and squeezing.

  
A silent plea.

  
The itch swells and grows before he’s practically bursting at the seams with his answer. Kei smiles and, removing the cap from Yamaguchi’s mouth and capping the marker in a single, swift motion, kisses him gently. Yamaguchi reciprocates eagerly, cupping his hands around Kei’s face and breathing out a tiny laugh. Kei may not have said anything, but he knew Yamaguchi understood perfectly.

  
_Yes, of course. Take me with you._

  
Unlike all the times before, they would finally leave together.

 

  
  
**_“The secret of love is seeking variety in your life together, and never letting routine chords dull the melody of your romance.” ~Unknown_**

**Author's Note:**

> (Subtle Hamilton reference is subtle)  
> I'm trash
> 
> Please come talk to me about tsukkiyama or this AU on my tumblr queen-eevee.tumblr.com


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